


Say My Name

by RitaM



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 06:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11503563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RitaM/pseuds/RitaM
Summary: She calls him Jack. It's an issue.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is, as always, a quickie. One of these days there shall be long fic, but if I get too perfectionist, I won't post and disappear for a year. Here you go - this is past Blood at the Wheel but before they reach an... understanding. :-)

He let her call him Jack. It’s been… problematic.

It was a moment of weakness – not weakness even, connection. She, the flightly lady of riches has adopted a child, seemed to sincerely care; for all her shudders and airs, she’d had surprising knowledge of the state system. She had hidden depths. She had shown herself to be deeper than her mask of red lipstick and rapier-wit. And there was a flash of recognition within him. Her mask was different to his, but underneath, they were the same.

“You might as well call me Jack" he said, face open "everyone else does”. Who was everyone else though? Mates at the pub? When was the last time? He’s had friends, there were indeed other detectives, but friendship was rare, often found in battle. This woman though, she encroached on his everyday battlefield in a way women rarely did. Offering his given name seemed normal, although there was an exhilarating spark to the whole thing. Like a lad of fifteen, he mocked himself, awash with the thought of making a friend.

He doesn’t call her Phryne much. He rations it, for when he needs her attention, when he cannot help himself, when he needs her to treat him seriously, aside from their everyday banter. The woman is a menace, an unstoppable river, and yet he never wants to stop dealing with her, will not walk away. Until he has to walk, finally, and then it’s too late – calling her Phryne then will give him away. He’s all but announced his feelings. He’s got nothing to lose now.

He comes back. And there is “Jack” this and “Jack” that. He dreams of red lips forming the word. And sure, Rosie was the last woman who called him by his name, but her “Jack” had shades of disappointment and guilt. Phryne calls out to him, wild creature that she is calling to his own suspicious nature, but she also seeks to bring him in from the cold: offers food, warmth, understanding. There is a sly note to her voice though. There is a challenge, an adventure, an offer that is more than a given name.

He gave up on love a long time ago. He wasn’t looking for it, still isn’t sure if it’s on offer. But pleasure and Phryne are one – the decadent sway of hips, the moan of enjoyment, the lusty full-bodied sigh – he’s never even touched her save that one fateful kiss and she’s already driving him crazy. Pleasure is rare in his world. It comes effortlessly or not at all. He’s had it as a lad and lost it and not regained it since; now the siren song beckons. In his world, duty comes first and pleasure is unimportant. But Phryne Fisher is pushing the boundaries. He fears his world will crumble; hopes against hope that it might expand.

Another day, another case and he’s home alone, full of feeling, ants crawling under his skin. He can’t, won’t go to her; he’s not ready; he’s not sure of her yet. But when he lets himself dream awake, dizzy with possibilities, with his own name haunting him – picturing her face awash with pleasure – he is finally sure of himself.


End file.
